


Chain

by sceawere



Category: Mayans M.C. (TV)
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-02 00:25:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17877653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sceawere/pseuds/sceawere
Summary: Domestic fluff for our sad boy. Angel dating a reader who works as an accountant for the legit side of the Mayans business. He doesn't want to furniture shop. He does want cuddles.-"Sorry, my boyfriend told me I had to put the chain on and not open the door to strange men at night.” You explained with a smirk, folding your arms. The streetlights backlit him and the glow from the muted tv screen you’d long ignored behind you added a little light.“Did he? Sounds like a smart man” he replied, forehead still pressed to the recently painted wood, turned slightly so he could meet your eyes.“He has his moments”“Yeah? Sounds handsome, too” he insisted, and you laughed again.





	Chain

The familiar rumble building up from the silence pulled you out of your concentration coma, eyes tearing away from the laptop screen for the first time in too long. Eyes weary, neck sore, you watched as the window lit up, and waited for the sudden cut back to silence that signalled Angel was home for real.

You rolled your neck a few times, to and fro, waiting for the keys in the door. A little jingle rang out on the other side of the door as he fumbled with his keys, then a scrape and a clunk. Another clunk came when he tried to push open the door and the chain yanked against its bolts. You ran your tongue over smiling lips at the heavy sigh that followed, and a quiet thump as he settled his head against the ajar door.

“Querida?!”

His tired call broke your will, and you burst out laughing.

“Please, the- “he wrapped his hand around the door, throwing his fist back and forth so the chain rattled.

“Ok! Ok! Shit, we have neighbours!” you pushed up from your little nest on the floor beside the coffee table, almost tripping over the blankets you’d wrapped around your legs while you worked. Midnight disturbance calls was not the way you wanted to kick off your first real weekend together all month.

You rested your head against the doorframe, eyeing him through the gap.

“Sorry, my boyfriend told me I had to put the chain on and not open the door to strange men at night.” You explained with a smirk, folding your arms. The streetlights backlit him and the glow from the muted tv screen you’d long ignored behind you added a little light.

“Did he? Sounds like a smart man” he replied, forehead still pressed to the recently painted wood, turned slightly so he could meet your eyes.

Angel had insisted that he didn’t give a single shit what colour the front door was as long as it wasn’t bright green polka dots or some shit, so you’d picked out the colour yourself. He insisted on painting it himself though, and you were thankful for the decision when you got to sit back and watch him work one sunny afternoon in only his sweatpants. Although the conversation you’d had about maybe not keeping a lit cigarette in his mouth as he worked with flammable liquids hadn’t been as easy as convincing him the shade you’d chosen was the correct one.

“He has his moments”

“Yeah? Sounds handsome, too” he insisted, and you laughed again.

“You got all that from one sentence? How exactly did you settle on the handsome part?”

“Well, if he managed to get a girl like you- “he sucked in air with the beginnings of a smile, and you dipped your head, licking at your lips again. “Gotta be working with something”

“Oh, he is” you emphasised, adjusting your shoulder against the wall. “Girl like me, though, what would that be?”

“One who opens doors” he wiggled his grip again, the extra strong chain he’d fitted ringing out once more as you rolled your eyes. You pushed off from the wall, swiping your hand down the wood to move his fingers away, and then pushed your palm flat against the surface to jam it back into the frame. You unhooked the chain, sliding it out of the way, and re-opened the door for your weary boyfriend. He stepped inside, rolling around the door as you replaced the chain instantly.

“Bolt, too” he insisted, and you hummed.

“I know, I know” you flicked it into place, waving at it to signal your compliance. He shot you a look which you disregarded, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck and jump into his grip.

“Hey” you breathed, pecking kisses at his lips, his cheeks, his forehead as he chuckled.

“Missed me?”

“Just a little” you replied, pressing lips to his and lingering for just a second longer. You jumped down, pulling at his hands as they gripped at your waist, half dragging him behind you as you tried to make it back into the living room. You both laughed, your half-hearted tug of war continuing until you made it to the couch, and he pulled you back down onto his lap. His arms moved quickly to encircle you, lips working their way from your shoulder, up your neck, resting behind your ear for a teasing second too long.

“I have just one section left to finish, and then I’m all yours, all weekend. I promise.” You explained, reaching forward to the laptop, but being pulled back.

“Noooo…Angel. I have to get this done.”

“You work too much” he mumbled, nuzzling into your neck.

“Says the guy whose home for the first weekend this month” you replied, and he hummed without much commitment. His motions stilled, the only indication he hadn’t nodded off being the soft drag of his thumb over your hip where it lay across your belly, fingers pushed up into the shirt you’d ‘borrowed’ off the small pile on his weight bench.

“One more section. Then I’m done with the accounts for the month” you insisted, turning your head to press your lips against his forehead. “I promised Bishop they’d be ready for him Monday. I tried to get them done before you got back but…that didn’t happen. Fifteen minutes. Fifteen”

He sighed, lifting his arm off you like you were exiting a rollercoaster, and you moved forward, coming to your knees in front of the couch. He stayed where he was for a few moments as you began clacking away furiously, the added motivation of his presence ensuring your productivity increased.

“Want a drink?” he asked, rising carefully so he didn’t jam his knee into the back of your skull.

“Uh-uh. Wait-yes!” you stalled your clacking and called as he made it to the doorway heading into the kitchen. “But not beer.”

“We only have beer.”

“Then beer’s fine” you shook your head, and he scoffed a laugh, lumbering into the darkness of the adjoining room.

He returned, the bottle appearing next to your screen. You smiled to yourself when he used the bottom of the beer to shuffle a torn section of paper over to use as a coaster and placed the bottle down on it gently. Turns out the message about the fucking rings in the new fucking coffee table had remained in his head even after his absence.

“We need real coasters” you reminded him, and yourself, reaching out to pick up a pencil and scribble the word down onto another scrap of paper.

“I know” he sighed, collapsing back onto the couch behind you. He toed his boots off, kicking them away from the two of you, and reached forward to rub at the top of your exposed spine above the shirt.

“There’s that place up by your dads that just opened. I went with Lettie to get things for her to move into her dad’s with, and they had some nice stuff. We should check it out. They had a whole garden thing at the back…” you trailed off as you double checked some quick maths in your head, muttering codes to yourself as you entered them into the accounts.

“Yeah, sure. Just…get what you want, and I’ll cover it” he replied, and you hummed.

“The point is kind of going together, Angel. It’s our house, not just mine. You have to kind of like living here”

“I kind of want you to focus on what you’re doing so you can be done doing it” he fired back, and you sighed.

“Fair enough. I mean it though. I get you’re not an interiors guy but like, I don’t know. Want this place to be home for us, not just your girlfriends house you sleep at sometimes. We may as well have just kept the separate apartments if we were going to- “

“Please stop” he pleaded as he leaned down, knocking his forehead against your shoulder. You laughed, raising your hands in surrender, but he reached over to push them back towards the keyboard, spurring your laughter to grow. “More typing!”

“Yes, sir! Don’t go getting excited” you insisted when he hummed at your ear at the title.

He left you to work mostly, pressing soft kisses to the shell of your ear every so often, rubbing his forehead against your shoulder like a damn cat then and now. Ten minutes in and he was getting restless.

“I just have to finish this- “you cut off as Angel hooked his fingers under your chin, tilting your head back so he could kiss you properly. “One more line, then I’m all yours”

He sniffed, standing then crouching beside you as he eyed the screen. One hand reached out, gripped the side of the laptop screen, and repositioned it so he could eye the text better. You tutted, reaching out to slap at his wrist.

“You’re going to break it doing that!”

“What the fuck does any of this mean?” he frowned, brow furrowed as you mirrored his earlier motion, clasping his chin between thumb and forefinger, and dragging his gaze back to you.

“It means I deserve a pay rise, is what it means. You gonna get onto Bishop about that for me?” you asked, and he raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, me neither. I’m just saying, you always pay the accountant well, or they take the money from the money, you know? Keep the person holding your tax liabilities happy.”

“Are you threatening to rip off the Club? Huh?” he accused playfully, and you pushed your tongue into your cheek as he took up his work on your neck again. “Because if you are, I gotta take that to the table, baby”

“You’d rat me out?” you questioned with false innocence.

“Bros before…” he trailed off as you shot him with a more serious look, the two of you settling into chuckles after a moment of silence.

“I only handle the legit shit, you know that. Scrapyards doing well.” You turned back to the screen, inputting the last few pieces of data, eyeing the numbers quickly for any immediately obvious mistakes (even though you’d double checked everything before inputting it) and saved it.

“Yeah? I got a nice retirement pay-out waiting for me?” he asked, collapsing back to crash against the floor with a sigh. He raised his hand up to wipe over his face, thumb moving to travel over his forehead.

“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure it’s not coming from my side of the ledger” you reminded him, checking the laptop shut down before flicking the lid down and moving to crawl over him.

You settled over his body, forearms resting either side of his head, fingers moving from the fresh carpet to scrape softly at his scalp.

“Tired, papi?” you questioned, and he hummed. His hand travelled up over your bare thigh, fingers dragging the shirt up over your spine once more.

“When do you want to go to the…place?” he asked, hand waving in the air beside you as he tried to remember the name and failed.

“Hmm, not urgent. We need some decent storage though; the industrial chic look you brought with is not working for me”

“This is our house, not just my girlfriends place” he joked, and you dropped your head to rest on his shoulder. “I happen to like industrial chic, actually. You get your coasters, and your- whatever it was you did to the bathroom. I get my- “

“Rickety exposed metal shelving?”

“Yeah” he shrugged, and you chuckled.

“Ok, Angel. Sure thing.”

“I told my pops we’d go for dinner sometime next week. Not done one since EZ’s birthday and…”

“Yeah, nice. I’ll make a…” you reached up to unhook the thin chain that has fallen to rest in the hollow of his throat, twirling it around the pad of your finger, “-dessert of some kind. Figure it out closer to the time”.

“He likes the one with the- “he motioned in the air again “strawberries or whatever”.

“Ok.” You agreed and he settled, fingers running up and down the length of your spine. “You want to get in the bed or is the floor doing your back some good?”

“What am I? Eighty?” he questioned, wrapping his arms around you, and as if to prove himself, lifting you both up from the ground in one fell swoop. You let out an ooh, snorting as he almost knocked you against the doorframe. “Shit, sorry”

“Nope, you’re good”

“Yeah, I am” he smirked as he walked you both back to the bedroom.

“Oh, shut up”


End file.
